


Jack and Jill

by Sinistretoile



Series: The Pieces of Pine [4]
Category: The Night Manager (TV), The Night Manager - Jean Le Carré
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chance Meetings, Cunnilingus, Episode 2, F/M, Fucking, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Secrets, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, Stranger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:12:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6163616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile





	Jack and Jill

Burr had told him to make a mark. To be the baddest man he could be, to build himself a legend. He did just that, breaking the little girl’s heart in the process. She was a woman, yes but she was still a little girl, innocent and naïve. The one he hadn’t expected was the one he’d met at the pub. She wasn’t questioned by the police. She didn’t get involved in the gossip afterward either. Their affair was her secret. Another to add to the many she already kept.  
The thunderous rumble of his motorcycle cut through the night. Jack Lyndon parked around the corner from his intended stop. He’d grown fond of the Triumph and the freedom it gave him. He felt powerful, in control and yet free on that bike. No one was outside the pub. At least he thought, as he paced back and forth on the sidewalk to summon his courage, to prepare himself for what he had to do, who he had to be.  
“You look like trouble.” He flinched at her voice but tried not to let her see his rattle. He didn’t speak, merely spared her a look over his shoulder. “Oh ho, he’s the quiet, brooding type. The mystery man on the motorcycle.” He smirked at her sass.  
She stepped from the shadows and he was surprised by her appearance. She was positively stunning, too good for this backwater village. The jeans she wore had been painted on. Even more surprising than her beauty was his desire to have those thighs that strained in the denim wrapped around his head and his waist.  
“You look like trouble yourself.”  
She smiled and it lit her face up differently. “I used to be.” She turned in the light at some fond memory and he saw the scar. He didn’t gasp, merely a sharp intake of breath. “And his interest goes in a breath.”  
He didn’t want to touch the pain and the rage that scar ignited. Sophie. Samira. “Who did that to you?”  
“Does it matter?”  
“Maybe.”  
She leaned against the car in front of him and crossed her arms over her chest. His attention flickered from her beautiful yet damaged face to the swell of her tits. The gingham top squeezed the globes into tantalizing cleavage. Again, he fought his flaming desire, the urge to dip his tongue between those tits…or his cock, that twitched that the thought.  
“Tyler Forde.”  
He flexed his hands. “Know where I can find him?”  
She smirked. “In the churchyard…” He blinked then recovered quickly. “You go inside and do what you need to do. Then you stop by.” She plucked a card from her back pocket and slipped it into the warmth of his leather jacket, into the pocket of his hoodie. He didn’t make a move for the card. When she walked away up the street, he turned and went into the pub.

The cottage was small, nondescript. No flowerbeds or outside decoration, just the number. He looked at the card then the number to be sure. A single light glowed in the upstairs window. He looked up at the sound of it being pushed up.  
“It’s unlocked. Come on up.”  
He opened the door to the smell of cinnamon and roses. The living room to his left was dark yet he could imagine it being cozy with a fire burning in the empty fireplace. He could make out a kitchen up the hall in the moonlight. His boots sounded far too loud on the bare wooden stairs as he climbed to the second floor. She’d taken off her jacket and that gingham top, leaving only her bra and the jeans. She leaned against the doorjamb, hip and head against it. With her arms crossed over her chest, her breasts looked even more abundant. He swallowed.  
“I wasn’t too sure you’d come.”  
“I wasn’t either.” Then he closed the distance between them, his strong arm wrapping around her waist. His mouth hovered over hers. “I shouldn’t have.” Her eyes flicked from his to his mouth then back to his eyes.  
“You probably shouldn’t have.” He took her luscious lips with his thin ones. She tasted sweet and clean, no cigarette smoke or alcohol. He breathed deeply then drew her in deeper, slipping his tongue between her welcoming lips. Her eager hands pushed the jacket off his shoulders; the heavy thump of it didn’t stop their kiss.  
She stepped back into the room as she unzipped the hoodie, pulling him with her. He eagerly followed. He pulled back and ran his fingers through her honey blonde hair, closing his fist at the end and giving it a tug. He darted in for another kiss but stopped short. “I don’t even know your name.”  
“Jill, my name’s Jill.”  
He laughed and kissed her, unhooking her bra as she shoved the hoodie of his shoulders. “Why’s that funny?”  
He grinned and it completely changed his face. He became someone else right before her eyes. “My name’s Jack.”  
Her laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. For a moment, her scar was gone and she was someone else entirely. He leaned in and kissed her throat, peppering kisses down her collarbone. She sucked in breath in anticipation, so he scraped his teeth along the bone. Her body shuddered underneath his hands. He kneaded her bare breasts, pushing her further into the room and steadily toward the bed.  
She tugged his shirt over his head and went for his belt. His hand covered hers and pulled it away. She froze as he slowly rose up and met her eyes. “You have to know nothing will come of this.”  
“I don’t want anything.”  
He searched her face to make sure she truly felt that and perhaps, to make sure he really meant it. If she felt otherwise, she hid it well. He placed his hand on her chest and pushed her back. The backs of her knees bumped the bed and she dropped. He smoothed his hand down his chest and stopped at his belt.  
She licked her lips and looked up at him expectantly. He took his time unbuckling the belt. She watched him with rapid breath. She could see the outline of what he had for her. Her mouth practically watered. His chest swelled with satisfaction and pride. She wanted him and he knew it. He wanted her and she could see it. He popped the button and lowered the zipper on his jeans. She brought her hands up to help him then paused, looking up as she brought them to her mouth. She bit her thumb and looked up at him.  
Jack pushed the jeans and boxers down to the tops of his thighs. His straining, heavy cock bobbed once free of the confines of his clothes. She reached for him. And when he didn’t stop her, she devoured him. He stopped breathing as her mouth worked up and down his cock. Her tongue dancing circles around his shaft. He would have gladly came in her wonderful mouth, but he ached to bury himself in her.  
He took a step back and dropped the jeans to the floor. “Lay back.” She did as he commanded. He undid her jeans and pulled them off her hips. She lifted so he could peel them down her shapely legs. The white lace and satin of her knickers surprised him. He would have expected something erotic like red or black…maybe even pink. He should like to see her in pink.  
He leaned over her, rubbing her swollen pussy lips through the soft fabric. “Wear pink next time…” Next time? There shouldn’t be a next time. Wouldn’t. Oh, who was he kidding? As soon as he saw the deceptively innocent smile on her face as she nodded, he knew there would be a next time. He knelt at the side of the bed and threw her legs over his shoulders.  
Jill shouted at the quick, eager licks of his tongue on her clit. He gave her no mercy. When he wasn’t licking it, he worried it between his lips. He thrust his fingers into her grasping cunt and curled them up to her reach her sweet spot. Her thighs clenched and she pulled his hair as she rewarded his efforts by cumming in his mouth.  
Jack didn’t wait for her to come down from her orgasm. He stood, with her legs still on his shoulders. He lined himself up and plunged forward. She cried out and reached for something. He locked their fingers together and pinned her hands to the bed on either side of her, pushing her legs into her chest. She closed her eyes and arched her back, moaning louder and louder the harder he fucked her. He looked at her face, contorted with pleasure, and he forgot who he was, who he was supposed to be. He was Jonathon Pine. He was Jack Lyndon. He was her mystery man on a motorcycle, fucking her, cumming in her so deep he lost himself in the suddenness of his orgasm.  
Jack pushed off her and sat on the side of the bed. He should leave. Now, before she’s even recovered. Just get dressed and walk out. Then her fingertips traced the line of his spine and combed up the back of his hair. He looked over his shoulder. With a sigh, he turned around and lay down next to her. His fingertip traced the scar from the edge of her down her cheek to the corner of her mouth and to her chin.  
“Tell me about this.”  
“I was young. He was the golden boy. He got drunk one night and decided to slap me around. When I hit him back, he thought he was going to show me. Threw me to the ground, pulled out a knife, cut my face.” She shrugged. “He didn’t get a chance to violate me. I kicked him in the knee and he fell just right, landed on the knife.” She turned onto her side, facing him. “I lied and said a masked man tried to hurt me and killed him. I adored his mum too much to put her through the truth.”  
“You’re still beautiful.”  
She smiled. “Thank you for that.” Her fingertips danced down his cheek. “Tell me about this.”  
“About what?” She laid her hand over his heart. Something in her eyes made him tell. He told her everything. About Egypt and Sophie, about Roper and Burr, everything.  
“So who are you? Are you Jonathon or Jack?”  
“I’m both, I guess. Can I truly be both?”  
Her thumb caressed his chin. “Who were just now?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Be him. Come here and be him. With me.”  
“You know I’ll leave when I’m done here. I won’t be back.”  
“I know.” She stroked his cock, bringing it back to life. “And I’m alright with that.” He covered her mouth with his, growing harder with each of her strokes. When he pulled away, he urged her onto her belly. She drew her knees up under her, lifting her ass as he moved up onto his knees.  
Their second time lasted longer. His hands roamed her back then under her, smoothing up her cup her breasts as he brought her back sharp and hard on the length of his cock. He wanted to memorize her. His port in this raging storm. He held her hips the first time she came down his legs, her shoulders the second.  
The pressure built and built with each deep thrust. His cock grew rock hard, ready to explode in her quivering, sopping cunt. His grip grew painful on her breasts. He gritted his teeth against it then let his head drop back, his mouth drop open as he gave himself over to the feel of her wrapped so tightly around his cock then he was cumming again. And he was kissing her, pulling her against his body as he fell to sleep. No, Jack and Jill were each their own little secret. And they had every intention of keeping it that way.


End file.
